Freak
by Brunette Inc
Summary: [one shot] Do I look alright? He nodded. Fine. Then I'm alright.


**If this looks familiar to you -- it should. I'm moving many of my one-shots to this account. **

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_**Freak**_

_**n 1:** a person or animal that is markedly unusual or deformed_

_syn: monster, monstrosity, lusus naturae_

_**n 2:** someone who is so ardently devoted to something that it  
resembles an addiction_

"Who are you? Really?"

Kate turned her head to stare at him, her jaw slack with shock. What kind of person asked a question like that? Seriously. It was bad enough she was stuck in this bogus in-house suspension; it wasn't like she needed to be trapped in the room with Lizzie's loser friend, and she certainly didn't deserve to be questioned about her inner-persona or whatever the hell he was getting at. Freak.

_Who asks something like that?_

"What?" she shot back warningly. If he was smart, he'd back off now. But the moron had to repeat himself:

"Who are you, Kate?" She quirked an eyebrow in response. With a sigh, he continued: "Are you really the prissy, popular, shallow girl you act like you are, or is it all some cover?"

_What's he doing here anyway?_

"What do you think?" Kate retorted icily. Stupid Gordo. Stupid freaking Gordo.

He shrugged, actually considering her question. "I don't know. That's why I asked you."

She contorted her face into a malicious visage. "Why do you care?"

Again, Gordo shrugged. "I don't know. Seeing as how we're here, and I've never actually talked to you, I just thought I'd find out for sure."

Loser. Freak. Weirdo.

Though after a moment of silence, Kate was forced to look up from pushing back the cuticles of her nails. What was that thing he'd said? "Prissy, popular, shallow." That wasn't fair. He didn't know her. He couldn't just judge her like that. Dork.

"I'm not. . . shallow," she finally muttered bitterly without glancing at him. She didn't have to. The tone in his voice suggested his exact facial expression and stance--he'd be sitting Indian style in the desk, with his face resting on his fists and his brow furrowed in comprehensive thought.

"Why aren't you shallow?"

_Is he analyzing me?_

"What?" Kate was quickly getting irritated by his vague questions.

"I mean, what makes you think that you aren't shallow? Do you have some deep, inner feelings that nobody knows about?"

_What is this, a joke?_

She turned to stare at him defensively. "No!"

Gordo shrugged good-humoredly. "So you're an open book."

_"No!" _Offended, Kate made her best effort to salvage her self-dignity. "I--I'm not an open book! I'm. . . complex and. . . mysterious and. . ." Her best effort was failing her, so Kate reverted back to her best defense: turning the table: "What about you? 'Who are you--really?' "

Gordo shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Do you _really_ care, Kate?"

Her eyes narrowed furiously. "You're such a freak, Gordon."

"Least I know what I am," he returned amiably. Kate stood up from her seat, shocked. How dare he--

_Who doe he think he is?_

"You wanna know what I am?" she very nearly shouted angrily, starting across the room towards him. She was fed up. Stupid dork. He thought he was so much smarter than everybody. He thought he had her figured out and everything, but what did he really know? He was stupid. Freak.

Gordo shrugged apathetically. "If you wanna tell me."

Ooh, that little. . .

"No, I don't!" she retorted, storming back across the room and taking her seat again. A moment. The clock ticked tediously, and that. . . freak was utterly silent. Kate took a deep breath, allowing herself a sigh to mutter out, "Why're you here, anyway?"

The question could've been taken as rhetorical, but David Gordon was never one to turn down a chance for dry humor. In his affable, friendly manner he answered:

"They thought I cheated on the semester final."

Kate sat up in surprise. Gordo? Cheating? "Did you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

_Does he get a kick out of being the way he is?_

"What about you?" the question was turned on her casually, but she jumped in surprise. Quickly she regained herself, throwing her hair over her shoulder superiorly.

"They thought I pushed Tudgeman down the stairs on purpose."

Now Gordo turned to her, interests perked. "Did you?"

Kate shrugged. "Of course."

"So it's not an act," he concluded with a disappointed sigh.

_What's his problem?_

"What's not an act?" she demanded suspiciously. Gordo let out an exasperated sigh. Kate was starting to notice that he did that a lot--sigh.

"The whole evil princess thing. You really are the way everyone thinks you are."

Kate's brow furrowed, puzzled. "What do you mean--'the way everyone thinks I am'? What do people think about me?"

Gordo shrugged, finding no logical reason not to tell her the truth. Hell, maybe she'd see the light.

"Oh, you're stuck up, mean--you know. Selfish, rude, prissy, shallow--"

Again with the shallow card.

Kate sniffed. "I don't believe you. Besides, even if I was all that, people would still think that you're--"

"I don't care," Gordo intervened before she could even begin to spit out all the terms she'd coined for him just in that segment of time passed. She stared at him skeptically.

"Of course you care. Everyone cares."

He shook his head. "I don't. Why should I?"

Kate stuttered for a moment over an answer before finding herself at a blank. She had nothing. She didn't know what to say. Finally, she settled for changing the subject altogether:

"Why do you have to be such a freak?"

Gordo shrugged. "Why do _you_ have to be such a freak?"

_Did he just. . . ?_

"Excuse me?" she demanded warningly. If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't--

"Why do you have to care so much about what people think about you? Why did it matter to you when I told you what the school thinks of you? You said you didn't believe me--why should it matter?"

Kate stared at him for a long moment. Why did he have to be such a. . . He was right. Why did he have to be right? Suddenly, she felt a sob catch in her throat. Angrily, she swallowed it, blinking away the tears glazing her eyes. He wasn't supposed to say things like that. Things that made her think about. . . life, and identity and stuff she knew she didn't want to consider. _Why did he have to be such a. . ._

"I don't know why," she finally choked out, "but it _does_ matter, Gordo. It does."

Had he not taken in her fragile state, he would've continued the conversation by furthering his lecture on why the opinions of other people didn't matter. But he saw it. She was about to cry._ Kate_ was about to cry. A feeling of guilt overtook him, and Gordo stood up and crossed the room, sitting down in the desk beside Kate's. Cautiously, he reached over and took hold of her hand. Her eyes snapped to his in surprise.

"It doesn't have to matter, Kate," he whispered gently, afraid of disturbing her into tears. She took a deep breath, but it couldn't keep her together. Something inside had shattered.

"I wish I were you," she managed through gasping sobs. "I wish I could be like you and not care and have it not matter. I don't want it to matter, Gordo! I don't want it to. . ."

Gordo was awkwardly surprised when she wrapped an arm over his neck and pulled him into a hug. She was shaking, trembling because the foundations of her Arctic countenance lay in ruins all about her, and she had no idea where to start picking up the pieces.

"Kate," he whispered apologetically, "Kate, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

Just then, the dismissing bell rang. Footsteps and voices filtered through the door. Gordo heard Miranda and Lizzie waiting patiently for him. The intrepidation of Claire's new pink boots were growing louder as they neared the room.

_Why does it have to be him?_

Kate released her hold on Gordo, blushing a little at the collar dampened from her tears. Dabbling at her eyes, she murmured:

"Gordo, you won't. . . say anything about this?"

He chuckled ironically to himself. "Who'd believe me?" She managed a half-hearted laugh. Gordo smiled, getting up from his seat and heading toward the door. He looked back at her carefully. "You gonna be alright?"

Kate gathered the books off of her desk, facing Gordo. The seconds had transformed her back to herself; no longer were her cheeks streaked with tears, and the look of desperation had fled her eyes.

"Do I look alright?"

Gordo nodded. "Fine."

She let out a ruthless sigh, reaching for the doorknob. "Then I'm alright."

_end_


End file.
